


In Them There Hills

by entanglednow



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Embarrassment, Magic, Magic Made Them Do It, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:05:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a strong possibility that Stiles has been drugged and kidnapped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Them There Hills

The last thing Stiles remembers is walking through the woods. Scott was there, he knows that much, tugging at his sleeve and saying something. Though Stiles can't remember any of the words, just the way his mouth had moved. After that - after that it's all just a huge, empty space. Though there is the lingering scent of vanilla in his nose, or something like it.

There's a strong possibility that Stiles has been drugged and kidnapped. Which he panics about for a minute, because nothing good ever comes from being drugged. Being drugged is a bad end to any day.

But then he registers where he is. What exactly he's lying on. Someone apparently drugged him and then left him in his own bed. Which doesn't seem particularly devious of them. Unless they _did_ something to him? He checks his clothes, which he still appears to be wearing. He vaguely remembers something from CSI about how shirt buttons and shoelaces can tell you if someone else dressed you, but he obviously doesn't have the skill because his clothes feel normal. He feels completely normal and not violated in any way, and yet somehow he isn't reassured at all. Going by the last few months the world is out to get him. Pretty much all the time.

He levers himself carefully upright, waiting for something, some sort of twinge, or dizziness that never comes. But the chair by the bed grates back. Scott's suddenly leaning into his space, all hair and fluffy sweatshirt. He's blur-inducingly close, almost as if he's trying to peer straight into Stiles's eyeballs.

"Oh thank God, you're ok. You are ok, right? Of course you're ok, you're not doing anything. How do you feel?"

"Was I drugged and kidnapped?" Stiles asks, he can't help it. It's one of those things he'd rather get out of the way as quickly as possible, if the answer turns out to be yes.

Scott pulls a face, and it's definitely a 'you don't remember?' sort of a face.

"No." He draws the word out as long as he can, possibly in the hopes that he won't have to volunteer any more information. Whatever it is, Stiles gets the feeling it's worse than drugged and kidnapped, so much worse. Which feels like a pretty narrow list - like it should be a pretty narrow list. Not encouraging at all.

"Scott?"

Scott's expression doesn't change, but he does shake his head a little.

"What happened to me?" Stiles demands

Scott bites his lip, which makes him look approximately five years old. But Stiles needs an explanation for this right now, so he glares until Scott's expression sort of caves inwards.

"You were kind of trying to havesexwitheveryone," Scott says, all in a rush. His eyes are huge.

Stiles's brain replays that sentence in his head, several times. Which doesn't really help, in the slightest.

"Excuse me, what?

"We think it was something to do with that creepy abandoned house everyone was saying was haunted. Derek wanted to take a look and you kind of invited yourself, and you wouldn't be quiet - and you're looking at me like you don't remember any of this. I can't believe you don't remember. Derek wanted to go in all stealthy, but you said you'd knock and you did, and the door opened and you went in and it shut behind you -"

"Oh my God, slow down, you're talking faster than me," Stiles tells him.

Scott shakes his head, like he can't, because he has to get all of it out first.

"So you went in, and we couldn't get the door open and it was creepy, because it was just a door made of rotted wood, but we couldn't open it. But then you just sort of fell out and - you said you were fine, and we thought you were at first. But you really weren't." Scott grasps his arm and shakes him, just a little.

"You make it sound like I was possessed. Please tell me I wasn't possessed. That shouldn't be a genuine thing I should be afraid of." Stiles stops himself from trying to check his body over, because how are you supposed to check if you were possessed? What possible tests were there for that. Shit, there were probably tests. He needs to find out what they are at some point. 

"No, you were definitely you," Scott says and then winces like he's admitted something he didn't want to. "You were you but you were acting...funny, and you smelled...off. Then you kissed Derek."

All the air has just gone from Stiles's throat. Escaped in a shocked sort of choking exhale.

"Excuse me I did what? _I did what?_ "

Scott nods and pretends not to notice Stiles's imminent emotional breakdown.

"Like properly, well not properly, you were kind of bad at it. But it was in front of _everyone_ , and I knew you wouldn't do that. It wasn't just Derek, it was -"

"Please don't say everyone," Stiles says desperately.

Scott's wearing his constipated face that says he doesn't want to upset people by saying the wrong thing. There's a little embarrassment in there too, and maybe a touch of mental scarring.

Stiles is shaking his head, sort of helplessly.

"I would like to apologise after the fact for any inappropriate touching which happened." 

"I've already erased it from my memory," Scott reassures him.

"You're a good friend."

"I'm a _very_ good friend," Scott says, with feeling. Oh my God.

"Isaac mostly looked like he was quietly freaking out every time you touched him, he was trying to be nice about it, and I think he was kind of afraid of hurting you, so he mostly just let you do it. He feels guilty about that, by the way. Erica thought it was hilarious. Boyd was avoiding you, though you weren't exactly making it easy for him. Mostly though you kept trying to - with Derek. You were pretty much leaking pheromones everywhere, and it got really - I have never been less happy about having to smell everything. You have no idea."

"I am never leaving my room again," Stiles decides, never.

"Isaac thought that if you actually -" Scott's face does a meaningful sort of scrunch. "Then it might wear off, and you thought that was the best idea ever. But by then your vote didn't really count."

"My vote never counts," Stiles says, from where he's still sat on the bed with his hands pressed to either side if his head. Because, oh my God, this isn't happening. He waves at Scott to continue.

"But because you were like, mentally impaired, Derek said no."

"Derek made a sensible decision on my behalf. This may be a sign of the impending apocalypse."

"We were pretty sure that whatever it was it was meant for werewolves. I was worried you were going to die. Well when you weren't trying to climb Derek. I mean, you didn't look like you were going to die, but I was worried anyway."

"Luckily you have the upper body strength of seven year old," Derek says from the doorway - and why, why is Derek here? Derek shouldn't be here.

Stiles is too busy dying of horror and shame to be offended.

"I'm dying of horror and shame, could we please not make jokes at my expense."

There's the sound of feet on the stairs, and this is so unfair because now Erica's in the doorway, eyes fixed right on him.

"Is he back to normal? He's not humping your leg, so I'm guessing he's back to normal," she says, through a smile that Stiles suspects is never going to leave her face. Derek glares at her in that special way he has, and she shuts her mouth. She doesn't stop smiling though.

"He's back to normal."

"He doesn't remember anything," Scott says, because he's a sharer.

"I recorded some of it on my phone," Erica says helpfully and holds up her phone like she's about to demonstrate something amazing. Stiles can actually feel his stomach lurch all the way up into his throat. "But then Derek made me delete it," she finishes. "I might still have a voice clip somewhere. You have no idea what a filthy mouth you have." Her mouth curls up at the edge, in a way that's sexy and terrifying.

"Erica, stop it," Scott says fiercely.

"Erica, go back downstairs, you're not helping," Derek says, without even looking at her. She throws Stiles one last look and then vanishes in a swirl of hair and mockery.

Then Derek gives Scott a sort of meaningful look, like he wants him to leave too, and Scott shuffles a little closer to the bed, and it's nice that he's going to at least make an effort to stop Derek from horribly murdering him. But the fact that he looks at Stiles for a second - as if to make sure he's not going to do anything either.

Hurray for Scott officially making things more awkward.

"Derek's completely safe from me," Stiles says flatly, and Scott looks like he doesn't know whether to laugh or wince. He settles for leaving - escaping, whatever. Coward.

"Never leaving your room again doesn't exactly work if the cause of your mortal embarrassment comes to you," Stiles points out, just to fill the horrible, embarrassed silence...with more horrible embarrassment.

"Forget about it," Derek says. "All of it." He actually sounds like he means it, which makes no sense because Derek just doesn't let people off of things. Derek probably holds grudges forever.

"You don't let things go. You never let things go. Why would you possibly want give me a free pass on this?"

Derek stares at him for a long, uncomfortable minute, arms crossed.

"Because that thing was meant for me, and if you hadn't blundered in ahead of us like an idiot it would have been me trying to fuck everything in sight," he says quietly. "And I guarantee no one would be laughing about it this morning. It could have been a lot worse." His jaw clenches on the last word, like he'd thought about it. Couldn't help thinking about it. Stiles has to admit that would have been - that would not have been a good day.

"Unwanted personal touching aside," Stiles adds, can't help but add. "Which I'm still sorry about by the way. So very sorry. For my rampant personal space violations."

"You were manageable," Derek says, and there's a twitch in his jaw that just won't leave.

Stiles really doesn't know what to do with that.

"Because of my childlike upper body strength?"

"That and your inability to focus on one thing at a time."

"Fabulous, I'm capable of spazzing out in a sex way too. That's so good to know. I'll make a note of it." He shoves his head under the pillow, because that just seems like the quickest way to kill himself.


End file.
